


The Lonely Sea and the Sky

by Black_Betty



Category: Waterworld (1995), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Erik is a mutant in any universe, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, Waterworld fusion what?, and procrastination, dub con-ish elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 14:54:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Betty/pseuds/Black_Betty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But now here they are, in the darkened shadows of the lower hold, the distant, nonsensical humming of the girl child drifting to them from above as her brother barters for their lives with the only thing he has in trade. Himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lonely Sea and the Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarRose/gifts).



> So....this happened. Um. Yes. I'm suppose to be a) writing an academic paper or, barring that, b) finishing City by the Sea, BUT INSTEAD I wrote a Waterworld AU....sorry? 
> 
> StarRose, I don't know you personally, but I've been creeping your tumblr for a while, and I think you are truly delightful. This idea was straight up stolen from one of your posts that I can no longer find...you definitely incepted my brain--so thank you!! I hope you like this, though it's incredibly rambling....also, i haven't watched Waterworld in a long time, so my apologies if some of the details are off...we all know I only wanted to write the one scene anyways...and if you've seen the movie, you know what scene I'm talking about *wink wink*
> 
> Knowledge of the movie is probably not nescessary to read this...if indeed you still intend on reading this after this inane and long-winded author's note....
> 
> EDIT: this is the link to the original prompt: http://starrose17.tumblr.com/post/38526022797/please-tell-me-there-is-a-cherik-waterworld-au-out Just so we can all come full circle :D:D Thanks again StarRose!

 

_I must go down to the sea again,_

_to the lonely sea and the sky;_

_and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by._

~ John Masefield

 

He is looking at Erik now with the same expression as before: plaintive, but stubborn, desperate, but clinging onto some unfounded, lost sense of pride. And his eyes--bluer than anything in the world, both the sea and the sky, and the dark horizon line where they meet in the distance. Not red from the heat or bleary yellow from the bleaching sun--Erik has never seen eyes so blue.

He remembers the boy from the trading post, the way he poured Erik a glass of water from the bar with an elegant turn of his wrist, a practiced move, not spilling a single drop of that which had become one of their most precious commodities. He hadn’t looked at Erik with the same disdain as all the others, had been curious instead of repulsed by the drifter, the curl of his mouth kind, if weary.

He remembers the way the boy hadn’t shouted or jeered as they discovered that Erik was an undesirable, a mutant, rough hands holding him down, rough fingers folding back the delicate skin of his gills before they shoved him, beat him, ensnared him in a net like he was flotsam and garbage collected from the ocean floor. And when they locked him in a hanging cage like an animal, a criminal, it was the boy who stood below when all the others had left, his wide palms placed on the narrow shoulders of his small girl, his fingers tugging her sagging burlap dress over her shoulders to cover the strange whorls of blue tattoo decorating her back, staring up at him with his unfathomable eyes before turning and slowly walking away.

Erik hated him then, more than all the others. He didn’t want pity from anyone, least of all a filthy human.

But he remembers too that the boy had been the only one who raised his voice as they lowered Erik to his death, still trapped in his cage, the stinking, murky mess of yellow sludge laid out below him as his final resting place. He remembered how the boy had plead for mercy in resonating, well-rounded vowels, and when the Hellfire Club attacked the outpost in a flurry of violence and mayhem, gasoline and blood, he remembered how the boy had come to him just when he thought all was lost with a key and a steady hand.

And then that piercing expression that made him seem older than his years and somehow more vulnerable than ever before as he bargained,

“If I let you out of here, you’re taking us with you,” less of a question, and more of a demand, and Erik, suffocating, smothering to death had no option but to say yes.

He had no intention of following through. He would get them out of the ambush, yes, and away from the trading post, now lost to the Shaw and the rest of Hellfire. He would save them what would have inevitably followed, death, or slavery, or something worse….yes, he thought dumping them overboard at the first opportunity would be something of a mercy.

But now here they are, in the darkened shadows of the lower hold, the distant, nonsensical humming of the girl child drifting to them from above as her brother barters for their lives with the only thing he has in trade. Himself.

And his face is set in that same proud look, and Erik finds he can’t meets his eyes as the boy pulls off his tunic with steady hands, ruffling the dark waves of his hair, tinged auburn from the sun. He’s surprisingly pale, but lean, muscled, his broad shoulders freckled from the sun. He unlaces his trousers with the same steadiness, and the material falls from narrow hips.

Erik takes a moment and looks him over as he stands brazenly before him. He’s been on the ocean a long time, and sometimes the ocean can be bitterly lonely. Sometimes he thought the silence of the ocean and his own company might drive him insane. He can’t remember the last time he touched something soft, and beautiful, and for a moment he wants to with an aching fullness that swells in his gut.

But when he reaches out a hand to drift fingers along one bare shoulder, he sees the boy’s expression falter, a flicker in his eyes down and away before he steadies himself. And Erik can see the quiver of that full lower lip, the subtle trembling of his fingers now that he’s up close. He sees the boy take a measured breath as he braces himself….prepares himself to be touched by an untouchable. To have mutant hands on him.

He’s beautiful, and Erik despises him.

“A couple hours ago and I was nothing but dirt to you,” he growls, breathing the words low into the boys ear. He jerks back and stares at Erik with wide eyes.

“We’re not like that,” he says, and Erik can’t help but smile, he lies so prettily.

The smile is cruel though, a helps him shape his next words,

“You all are.” The boy looks ready to protest again, and so Erik saves him the trouble. He scoops up the boys discarded clothes in one fluid movement and flings them at him. “You’ve got nothing I want.”

He ignores the hurt in the boy’s eyes, the scrabbling desperation, ignores the boy all together until he turns Erik’s own harpoon gun on him, demanding passage. The boy’s tenacious, all right, he’ll give him that much. It might just help them survive to the next outpost, though Erik’s not completely certain he won’t dump them overboard at sunrise.

He’ll give them one night of peace at least. One last night to lie curled up in each other, the boy (Charles) with his arms wrapped protectively around the girl (Raven), her thin back rising and falling with each heavy, slumbering breath.

Letting them live another night is a small kindness in an unforgiving and merciless world, and Erik thinks of it as good karma. But late in the night, when the moon is high overhead and casting a pale glow across the dark sweep of eye lashes, a lax red mouth, Erik can’t help but wonder what it would be like if the boy had come to him, not in desperation, but in desire. If those luminous, fathomless eyes had looked upon him in love instead of disgust.

He reminds himself that there is no sense in wanting for things he cannot have. The world has no space for dreams or wishes. For Erik, affection is as distant a hope as dry land.

He rolls over and falls into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

 

 

 

 


End file.
